


Space Captain Dewees and the Time He Nearly Lost His Pocket Musician

by dapatty



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Reggie and the Full Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story a little like Star Wars where Dewees is not Han Solo, but instead a mostly legit/sometimes pirate Captain, has his own spaceship called The Good Dawg with a motley crew and no time for shit involving Pete Wentz whisking Patrick off for parts of the universe more shiny than his boat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Captain Dewees and the Time He Nearly Lost His Pocket Musician

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falter/gifts).



Dewees ducked his ship behind an asteroid, hoping it was far enough inside the field to muck with the Allied Warships’ scanners. Flipping everything to standby, he docked inside a very snug crater, fingers hesitating on the short range cannons. He could power them down--should probably turn them off because of the heat signature they gave might as well have been a ‘HEY LOOK HERE’ sign. But, the damn weapon system was so finicky about turning back on. He really needed an upgrade or twelve.

“Flippin’ heat signatures,” Dewees muttered switching the canons off and priming the warp engine. “Goddamn Allied Forces being out here at the edge of the Known ‘Verse all in the way and shit.”

"Aw shit, you've got that look again," Frank said, making a few adjustments on the console and moving to power the cannons back up. 

"What look? Hey! Paws off!" Dewees reset everything back into his preferred parameters all while making shooing motions. "Dude, get your own spaceship if you're gonna touch _everything._ "

"If I had my own spaceship, then I'd have to drive myself everywhere," Frank made to touch some buttons and Dewees thwacked at him with a star chart (Dewees might have to admit to having paper charts for just this purpose) and routed additional resources to shielding. "Besides, I'd actually have to learn your shortcuts and I'm way too busy helping Jamia overthrow corrupt governments and pestering you for that shit."

"You are a menace and the reason we’re currently hiding in a bunch of rocks," Dewees grumbled, then smiled because Jamia was like their very own Princess Leia with equally as cool hair. Total badass even.

"But I'm _your_ menace," Frank said, fluttering his eyelashes, giggling when Dewees gently poked him in the belly. "And yes. You have that Pining for Patrick look. He's just down in the Mess. Go talk to him. I'll, like, pinky promise not to touch anything unless we get shot at."

“I’m not pining,” Dewees argued. “I don’t pine. If anything I’m at least a spruce swaying in the breeze and this metaphor may have gotten away with me. And I’m not leaving you up here to navigate our way out of this field. You can’t even parallel park! I’m sure as fuck not letting you get involved in a high speed space chase that gets us pancaked.”

“Yeah, I’m really sawing logs over here,” Frank snorted. “And dude! I can _totally_ park this boat anywhere.”

“My ma’s prized dahlias says otherwise, man,” Dewees said. “Anyway, I don’t long from afar. When I want someone, I’m bold about it. Except for times like now when we’re playing hide and seek with more guns than my Dog can hold.”

“It’s true that subtly is _not_ your middle name, except now with everyone’s favorite pocket sized maestro,” Frank said. “Sure, Pete and his long distance thing just crashed and burned and you think you need to give him time, but pounce on that. You’re being way too considerate dude.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” Dewees asked. “We have more pressing concerns.” He gestured to the scanners. The warship was getting closer. Dewees might just have to drop down and run for it and hope they hadn’t been made.

“When else are we gonna talk about it? You can shake the Allieds in your sleep, dude. And if they board us, Jamia will kick their asses. We’re perfectly safe.” Frank made a dismissive gesture. “Besides, I have a vested interest in your lovelife. I want you to be happy. You’re Dewees. A man cannot live on a full ship and delicious baked goods.” 

“I’m fine, man.” Dewees insisted. “Stop worrying about me.”

“That’s all he does, is worry,” Jamia said, swinging up into the cockpit and sliding into the passenger seat, squeezing Frank’s ass on her way past. “We cool, or do I need to get the grenades out of my purse and throw on an EVA suit?”

“We’re mostly cool. Should be fine,” Dewees said. “Certainly fine enough that we don’t need a repeat of Bronta 1 and those thrilling heroics.”

“You never let us have any fun anymore, Dewees,” Jamia observed. “This is why you should go at least talk to Patrick. You’re no good to us in this moping and pining mode you’ve got going.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Frank grinned. “The man needs to get laid. You’re a goddamn pirate king, practically. Patrick thinks you’re awesome. It’s a win-win.”

Dewees shoved Frank into the other cockpit seat in response, snapping his flight harness in and reaching for the ship comms.

“Man-handling, kinky,” Frank smirked. 

Dewees winked lasciviously and keyed up the ship mic.

“This is your dead sexy Captain speaking. Strap in kids, gonna get a little wild. Seats and tray tables in an upright position. Don’t hide in the mess if you didn’t lock the knives back up.”

“Do you think Donna Way would mind if we stopped by?” Jamia asked. 

“She hasn’t minded yet,” Dewees said. “Besides, Ray found her another _really_ creepy doll. It’d be rude of us to get thrown in jail before we could deliver.”

“In-put coordinates for Earth 9,” Frank said. “Ready to jump when you say and not a moment before not even if I think we should have gone immediately.”

The detection sensor sounded just as Dewees dropped the ship out of his hiding spot and started weaving in between asteroids.

“Get clear. Like now! What are you waiting for?!? Oh dear Sweet Pea! That was really close. Are you _trying_ to give me an actual heart attack.For shit’s sake!” Frank’s usual color commentary was a constant while Jamia giggled as Dewees tried to put enough distance between them and the warship. He made his way out of the field just as the warp core primed.

“Punch it,” Dewees commanded and Frank smashed the button with a satisfied, “Fucking finally asshole.”

***

Dewees guided them out of Hyperspace at a jump point three stops from their destination. No use burning extra fuel when they didn’t have too, never minding throwing off an trails. Besides, he’d never be able to save up enough to open a nice and respectable bakery if he wasted resources.

“Gold Star Dewees,” Jamia kissed him on the cheek as she stood.. “Come on, Frank. I bet he needs to pine some more and would like privacy for that.”

“No more pining, man. I’ll send Travie up to spell you so you can go get your flirt on,” Frank decided, unfastening his harness and following after her.

Dewees groaned and did not bang his head on the console, but it was a close thing. He got them in line for jump point instead, while he tucked his star charts back away.

“S’up man,” Travie greeted sliding into the pilot’s chair. 

“Dude, you don’t have to. I can get us home,” Dewees said, but Travie made shooing motions. 

“Go talk to Trick. This pining thing has gone both ways and I hate how hangdog my boy’s been. Go make him smile. Yes that’s an order from your co-pilot. Don’t make me get Ray to lecture you on communication and shit.”

“Fine, fine. I’m going,” Dewees said, smiling a little. Travie is a good dude and he baked a mean round of cupcakes. Dewees was so smart to get him to be co-pilot.

Making his way through the ship, he finally found Patrick sitting on the catwalk of the cargo bay kicking his legs.

“Hiya Patrick,” Dewees said, “mind if I sit?”

“Only if we’re finally going to make out,” Patrick answered and fucking smiled like a cat in a creamery. 

Dewees might’ve tripped a bit--more of a stumble really--out of surprise then started laughing. “I fall in love with feisty, tiny badasses.” He said between giggles.

“Love, huh?” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, looking impossibly fond.

“Yeah, or at least starting to.” Dewees sat down next to Patrick, dangling his legs over the side and his thigh pressed against Patrick’s. 

Patrick leaned over and Dewees met him halfway, lips touching lips. Dewees tilted his head to get a better angle and _yes_. Kissing Patrick was just as nice as he expected it to be. Maybe even a little better, especially once all that tongue action started happening.

They made out for quite awhile, taking breaks for Patrick to giggle about Dewees’ beard being all tickley. Admittedly, they’d have still been making out, but Frank, Jamia, and Ray had come down to the cargo bay to cheer for them and provide color commentary. 

“I’m gonna make pie!” Dewees announced, standing and pulling Patrick to his feet.

Three three below cheered with Frank saying something that sounded suspiciously like, “Gonna get laid pie is the _best_ pie!”

***

“Love’s a good look for you,” Donna Way had said after Dewees had baked his seventh batch of cookies, fifth round of scones, and three pies after two days of being at her house. She’d restocked her kitchen for him. She’d even picked up his preferred brand of pastry flour.

“Thanks Ms. Way,” Dewees said, smiling stupidly at her.

She patted him on his cheek. “I like knowing that all my boys are happy. Now bake me some fucking macaroons.”

He baked three different kinds of macaroons.

Three days into their weeklong hideout in Jersey on Earth 9, Pete Wentz gave a wave over the long range communicay. Patrick had gotten roped into going to the Farmer’s Market with Travie who was looking for the perfect dragon fruit for a celebration punch. Ray was selling off the excess of baked goods while Dewees prepared stew for the evening.

“Is this a call involving threats and my kneecaps?” Dewees asked, trying to look intimidating and not ridiculously happy and failing by a mile.

“Nah man,” Pete said, looking fond. “Patrick can take care of himself and his own heart. Besides, I’m his best friend and as such that speech is totally implied.”

“Yeah, I figure you got people for breaking stuff on your end of the rebellion.” Dewees allowed.

“Totally,” Pete confirmed with a grin. “I’d just send Andy. He’s practically an assassin.” 

“Then I’ll keep that in mind,” Dewees said. Andy was totally an assassin who Dewees was really glad that had their backs. 

“I’m glad it’s you for the record,” Pete said, sincere then cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve dealt with the important shit, kindly put our wonderful princess on so I can coordinate some military shit.”

“And our previous conversation of understood and implied threats never happened?” Dewees asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Exactly. What conversation? Were we talking about anything? I only remember you promising to send me some chocolate chips cooked.” Pete winked. 

Dewees chuckled. “I’ll get Jamia then.”

***

The sunset filtered through the oxygen dome was a helluva sight. The man sitting beside Dewees wasn’t too bad to look at either.

“Do you really want to start a bakery after the republic is overthrown?” Patrick asked. The sun shining off his hair making red like a flame. 

“Yeah,” Dewees said, slinging an arm over Patrick’s shoulders to pull him close. “What’s the point of independance if we don’t keep the dreams we’ve been fighting for. Maybe even make it a cafe. Put a piano in the corner. Sing a couple duets if that dream is good enough for someone else.”

“What? You think I wouldn’t be there?” Patrick asked. “I’ve had your butterscotch pie, dude.”

“Well, you seem to thrive under all this excitement. Fighting for the future and shit. It keeps you passionate. I just wouldn’t want you to be bored.” Dewees said, eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Hey,” Patrick said, fingers on Dewees’ chin and turning his face to look at him. “That sounds plenty exciting enough. Besides, we got to get there first. Lots to do before then.”

“When you say ‘lots to do’?” Dewees gave an overly sultry look. 

“I absolutely mean to have even more sex in your cramped captains quarters, but that we should take full advantage of the bed here too,” Patrick said with a laugh.

“Well, Mr. Stump, if you insist, I’m sure it will be such a hardship, but I think we can certainly give it a good try,” Dewees agreed.

“Maybe even a great one.”

“Yeah,” Dewees agreed, sealing the promise with a kiss then standing and carrying Patrick back to their room.


End file.
